


A Phantomhive Carol

by CielTheEarl



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon, Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21891406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CielTheEarl/pseuds/CielTheEarl
Summary: When the Earl Phantomhive refuses to get into the Christmas spirit, his loyal butler decides to take matters into his own hands......he hadn't expected it to go so wrong.
Relationships: Ciel Phantomhive & Real Ciel Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis & Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 4
Kudos: 54





	1. Darkness was Cheap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music:  
> Sickly Sweet Holidays by Dallon Weekes
> 
> "Oh, lights are shining down,  
> but I feel dead,  
> The sickly sweet holidays keep me in bed...

Ashy droplets of winter splashed onto the window panes as an unhappy Earl rolled his shoulders back, shaking the drama of a solved case out of his bones.

"You should be celebrating." Came a low voice, reverberating around the Victorian office.

"The only thing that I'm going to be 'celebrating' is the food... and the fact that the snow has prevented any more guests from attending." The sour boy commented as he scribbled his signature onto an ink-soaked contract. The child was a seemingly demure boy who's slender figure and pale complexion caused him to blend into the windows settled behind him. His fragility was a vice and virtue concurrently. That was his butler's opinion on the matter at least.

The man smiled, turning to dust a wall of books as his gaze raked over the multitude of garlands, checking the sparse bells and fresh holly for any mistakes. There weren't any. "My, my, what has you in such a _dire_ mood? You should be full of 'holiday cheer', it is Christmas after all." He said dutifully and thumbed the spine of an anonymous book, dropping to its low level before removing it from the shelf entirely. "Perhaps you should read _this_."

He presented the book to his charge and looked as the child's eyebrows furrowed and his little mouth popped open. "A Christmas Carol? You must be joking, it's nothing more than a penny dreadful turned famous." He chortled, pushing the book off of his documents. The pages rustled, the butler's displeasure mounting as he saw a delicate 'h' smudge beneath the untouched copy of the book.

"But it was written by Cha-"

"Charles Dickens was a hypocrite. He sold his books about poverty while he earned more money than all his characters combined. All of these philanthropic ideas are silly." The Earl commented, eyeing up the hand-drawn cover and scoffing into his tea. "And if you are implying that I am akin to Scrooge then you are wrong. I am not a scrounger."

"I would never imply such a thing." The elder of the two goaded, removing the book from his master's desk and sliding a gloved finger over the smudged letter before removing the document entirely. "I am just curious as to why you are so... disagreeable this eve. You have never been this sombre on the twenty-fourth before."

The Earl did not reply. Instead, he turned to the work begging for his attention as he mindlessly nibbled on a mince pie. "The Germans have the right of it." He mumbled into the palm of his hand. "Get the celebrations over and done with on the _eve_ instead of putting up with it for an entire day."

The man, Sebastian, chuckled under his breath before he continued to work in silence. The butler was tall and charming, his presence brimming with a sense of entitlement most of the gentry never quite reached. While his stature was slender and pretty, there was a discernible shift of muscle under his suit every time he swished this way and that, moving like the tea he poured so deftly into china mugs.

A while later, the boy had settled into his form-signing and Sebastian had moved onto replenishing the coke in the fire. For no reason, in particular, he turned from the fireplace to the phonograph and a smirk slithered its way onto his face. While the man was rich with his sense of gravitas, he was richer in his games. Richer in the sense that he rarely lost. But in a way, poorer for his lack of a good opponent.

Almost mindlessly, he ran his hands along the brass cylinder, appreciating the tiny time machine that splayed itself over the table and onto bookshelves, drenched with recordings and music. The player crackled to life and the distant sound of an old carol began to hum around the room. The boy looked up from his work immediately and lathered his face with a frown. It was deep and commanding, rivalling his carers voice and it was made all the more chilling due to his pitch-black eye patch and sapphire blue eye.

"What do you think you're doing?" The child asked incredulously as Sebastian stepped away from the phonograph and towards his desk.

Shrugging, the butler glanced at the boy's tensed hands and manicured fingernails. "I may not be a religious man..." he allowed his master a snort before continuing, "but I rather enjoy this holiday season." He watched as the surprise trickled down his charge's forehead and into that bubbling blue eye of his. "Now, if you would be so kind as to appreciate this time of the year for what it is..."

"What are you expecting me to do? Dance with you?" The boy snickered, placing another piece of parchment onto his growing pile of completed forms. Sebastian was sure that the growing sloppiness regarding his handwriting was done just in spite of the commanding butler.

Sebastian eyed the human's practised movements before humming out a jovial; "now that _would_ be a gift. However, I was thinking more along the lines of a smile."

"A smile?" Earl of Phantomhive questioned, eye clipping up and catching on the scalding brown of his guardian's own. "Just who do you think you're talking to?" The butler did not respond. He began to move over to the completed contracts and rejected invites so that he could file them where necessary. "You're being extremely annoying, Sebastian. I want you out of here."

"Very good, sir."

"And I want these garlands removed by the morn."

"Of course."

"And turn this ridiculously frilly music off. I cannot bear carols."

"Yes, Master."

"And the book..."

"My Lord?"

"Put it on my bedside cabinet and bring me some tea. I don't care what type. I want to go to bed."

"As you wish, my misanthropic little Lord." The butler drawled as he stepped out of the office.

"Why you-" The boy snapped as the man closed the door behind him. Sebastian stifled a chuckle when he heard something being hurled at the door and he began to wonder what was on his master's mind.

"Perhaps a lesson is overdue. I am his tutor after all."

* * *

Ciel Phantomhive didn't begin reading the book he so desperately despised until his butler had left him to sleep. The child had noticed the keen looks the man would give him, glancing from the book to the chai tea he served.

There was an uneasy atmosphere about the room and the boy found himself asking if the fire could burn for a while longer. The butler had agreed before bidding him goodnight and telling him, a little condescendingly, that he shouldn't read too late. The boy had scoffed at that.

Chai was not his favourite blend of tea but he downed it, swallowing around the lump in his throat. There was a sense of foreboding looming in the room and he took a moment to breathe. Crackles of ice were climbing up the window panes, the light from the moon causing long, intimidating shadows to creep up the opposite walls. The fire was small and depressing, smoke curling up into the chimney.

'A Christmas Carol' was heavy as it rested on his lap and before too long the Earl found its weight too much to bear. He lifted the copy and shuffled through the pages, pointedly ignoring the introduction so he could read the novella swiftly.

Even if he had never agreed with Dickens' philosophy, he was a skilled writer, crafting characters and personalities much like Sebastian crafted his meals. It was a little _too_ neat for his liking, just as he sometimes wished his butler was messier in his approach to... well, everything.

Sipping the last inch of cold tea, the boy felt his heart accelerate. The story was uneasy, especially since he found himself relating to Ebeneeza so closely. No, he did not pocket his money or _steal_ but his approaches to life, death and everything in between were as cynical and pessimistic as the covetous old sinner.

The clock ticked on and the child sank further into his bed, fingers going numb from the lack of warmth the sad little fire provided him. His eyes brimmed with tired tears, leading wet, cold trails down his cheeks and onto his neck. He knew he should sleep. It had been past his bedtime when Sebastian had left but the book enveloped him like he couldn't describe, and he only had a chapter left.

The child jumped when a brazen chime sounded from the clock in the hall. His eyes snapped up to the rest of his room, expecting something to be watching him. Nothing was there. It was almost more disconcerting to look up and find nothing but silence in the wake of his fright.

The chime faded into the woodwork and suddenly the boy felt very small in his king-sized bed. _Merry Christmas_ he thought to himself spitefully. Ciel watched as the long, intimidating shadows grew longer and more intimidating, the moon rose higher and the fire burned lower. He trailed his spooked gaze past the cracked windows and the copper bed frame and the clicking clock and the crackling fireplace. His heart thudded in his throat, replacing the foreboding lump with an understanding that he was extremely scared.

Deciding that he should _definitely_ get some sleep, the Earl quietly closed the unfinished book and placed it on his bedside cabinet.

He slumped down onto chilled pillows and let a puff of air curdle into the room, the temperature had dipped so much that he could see his breath swirl around him. The boy had a mind to call for one of the servants and request the fire to be lit once more but he was too exhausted to face the hassle.

Instead, he turned onto his side, glaring at his dressing room door. He stared it down as he tried to calm his frazzled nerves, however, the images of Marley and The Ghost Of Christmas Yet To Come whirled in his head, blocking out any rest that crept upon him.

It was almost as bad as when he had been left to read Edgar Allan Poe in the evening, it had given him a terrible fright. Sebastian really should have stopped him from reading such fictitious books.

The boy's breath hitched when the door to his dressing room creaked open. His eyes widened and body froze under the heavy blankets. Had he been looking the other way he surely would have missed it. Carefully, his hand crawled under his pillow in search of his weapon.

Had someone broken in?

The gun was reassuring as the magazine bumped his hand and a rush of adrenaline persuaded him to sit up in his bed. His movements were sharp and jagged, hands trembling around the butt of the gun. A wave of vertigo hit him and he swayed on his spot, wondering if the noises filtering through the gap were simply in his head.

Ciel's throat constricted as he nudged his legs out of the covers, the Earl wondered whether he should call out to the intruder or Sebastian. His feet yelled at him when they landed on the incredibly cold floor and his legs protested moving as his fight or flight reflexes kicked in.

No, he would not call for Sebastian. If it turned out the non-existent wind had caused the door to open then he would surely not hear the end of it. Not to mention it would draw the attention of whoever stood in his dressing room. Stiffly, he stepped forward.

His stomach dropped when the floorboards creaked below him. He paused, listening to the soft whip and snap of something in the room next to him.

He nudged the door with his elbow, eyes squeezing shut as he readied himself for whatever was going to come. The door slammed dramatically, hitting the wall with a crash. Ciel stumbled into the room, gun cocked and eyes wide.

Empty.

The room was completely empty.

Ciel huffed, collapsing onto the wall and sinking to the floor. He let the gun leave his hand and let his head hit the wall. He felt childish, stupid, silly and because of the racket he had made, Sebastian would surely come to check on him.

He glared at the open window, watching as the hills tumbled on by and the sharp December wind unsettled the whole room, making clothes and doors waltz around one another. The local village was visible from his manor, smoke curling into the sky as the jovial lights smattered themselves upon the horizon. It was merry, and quite obviously Christmas time. Snow pattered out as it reached the roman roads, uneven and utterly charming.

A lone carriage gently rode its way through the pinprick gaps between each of the houses, dipping in and out of roads like strawberries in melted chocolate.

Ciel's stomach rumbled at the thought and he rose from his place by his wardrobe. Bitterly, he trudged over to the open window and slammed it shut, paying no mind to the awful rattle it made. He gave the strawberry carriage one last moment of his attention, watching as it settled into place next to an inn.

"Sebastian." He muttered, turning from the ice blue of the winter night and stepping towards his room, "Come here and bring something to eat." He uttered as he stepped through his door, picking at a hangnail that had cropped up in the past couple of hours. "I want-"

His eyes flickered up instinctively and the words caught in his throat. A disgustingly sour feeling drenched him, dread flaring up in the pit of his empty stomach as he stared out at a foreign mass sitting on his bed. His hand flexed at his side, gun missing from its prior place in his hand.

The being was but a silhouette, stark in contrast to the pale glow of the waning moon. It was still, silent, passive, but it felt as if it was snapping all the bones in the child's body. He fell into the empty door frame, staring dumbly as he tried to find the words to say.

He didn't need the light. He knew who it was.

The sad fire suddenly burned, merciless, scalding flames whipped up into the ceiling, causing all of the long, intimidating shadows to dance along the walls. The whole room was bathed in a glorious inferno as the depressing blues were replaced with insatiable oranges and purples and reds.

The child dug his nails into the deep oak of his living chambers, eyeballs burning with the new-found heat from the fire and the boiling tears melting at his ducts.

He forgot everything. The contracts he had signed, the carols Sebastian had played, the book he had read, the little carriages smothered in snow and chocolate.

His mouth fought to say nothing, as he knew nothing was better than the word he had been craving to say for three long years. It teased his tongue as the two syllables pressed on his pallet, he could feel it escaping him.

The question, the admission, the word, the _hope._

"B-brother?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... but when I'm awake,  
> I'm crying every day,  
> I wish that you were here,  
> when Christmas comes this time each year."


	2. Not so Like a Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music:  
> Christmas Drag by iDKHOW
> 
> "Another Christmas without you,  
> That makes it two in a row,  
> Just wrap me up like a present,  
> I'll tie you up with a bow...

"B-brother?"

The other laughed, a thick, resonant laugh that had the younger drowning. The Earl stayed plastered to the doorframe, watching as his reflection shuffled atop the sheets.

The boy on the bed was larger, stronger, more graceful. His baby fat had evened out and his jaw had been sliced with age. His eyes were owlish, deep blue crystals swimming through healthy, porcelain skin.

Languidly, he allowed a leg to slide off of the bed, foot dipping into the carpet as he moved to stand. "How good it is to see you!" He chimed, swaying like a pendulum, ticking as he stepped closer. "My, you haven't grown an inch! How... adorable." The child grinned, stopping mere inches from his twin. "How I have missed seeing that face of yours." He said and brought a hand to his brother's cheek.

It slipped right through. The younger gasped. The older frowned.

"Oh..." The dead boy sighed, retracting his hand and holding it close. "I had forgotten that I must not touch."

"How are you... how did you..."

"Come on, brother dearest. Had you forgotten? I'm dead. You murdered me." The phantom said matter-of-factly. The younger shook his head, slowly backing away as the flames roared higher. "Aw, look at you. Don't worry, I'm not angry."

His smile was powdery, like a flannel, wrung up and squeezed until all moisture had left. It was a gritty smile. A fabricated smile.

"Would you like me to prove it?"

Before the younger could answer, a shirt was being lifted. As the garment rose over the dead boy's chest he morphed into something sinister. His skin paled to a snowy white and his jaw melted into his cheeks. His clothes dirtied themselves as if he had been splattered with mud and gore, and huge gashes tore into his pulsing skin.

The littlest Phantomhive heaved, stomach twisting and turning as a gaping wound was revealed. It stretched across the boy's chest, ending above his navel. His intestines hung like bunting from the gap in his stomach, blood and bone twirling around one another like a maypole. It was all too much. Thick globs of dead blood splattered onto the cold floor, smacking their crimson gaze onto the child's bruised legs. "See?" The true heir stated, fingering the rim of the wound, dancing around it like a carousel. "It was rather like Thomas, right? He was told to poke his finger through Jesus' wounds. That demon told you to do the same thing."

The young boy collapsed onto the floor, tears dribbling onto his chin.

"But do you know the difference between you and Thomas?"

The spare looked up, face smeared with horror as his brother stared down at him. His smile wrung itself and he continued to speak.

"Thomas didn't actually do it."

The Earl heaved, bending onto his front and releasing the chai tea and mince pies onto the rug. Hoping, for the first time, that this was a nightmare and he would awake to Sebastian's snide remarks. "Sebastian." He choked out, bringing his fingers up to pinch himself. "I want to wake up now."

"Wake up? Now, why would you want to do that?" The real Ciel asked, pouting unnaturally. "Do you not miss your big brother? Not at all?"

"Wake me up this instant."

"You're being silly, _little brother._ Waking up won't do you much good. Even your devilish butler cannot stop me." The child snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes going sour. "Whether you like it or not, you're going to see who you were, what you are and what will become of you."

The Earl ignored the heir and stumbled to his feet, morbidly intrigued by the way his brother shrunk and shrivelled the longer he stood, hole sinking further into his stomach. "Leave me alone, Ciel." He hissed, storming past the child to leave. _Why hadn't Sebastian come?_

Ciel screamed, voice ghastly and strange. His little brother shot around in a stupor, mouth agape as the most tortured noises spewed from him. Ciel rushed forward, barging into the younger boy, making him tumble backwards. "You must feel the pain I felt when you stole my ring." He groaned out, un-oiled and squeaky.

The youngest stared down in horror as the hand that had previously drifted through him held on fast to his bicep and dragged him closer to the fireplace. He shook his head and began fighting against Ciel, pushing away from him and pulling backwards. "No, stop. Stop!" He shouted as he was shoved into the floor.

Ciel smiled hideously and let his hands dance past the brushes and shovels, selecting a gleaming black poker and drawing it high into the air. "Let's see how far I can poke my fingers into _you."_ The phantom roared, plunging the weapon into his brother's stomach.

The child's cry was frantic as he shot up in bed.

His eyes blinked fast as black melted into his bedroom. He snapped his head to the side and was greeted by the startled face of his servant. "Master?" He asked, hand still wrapped around his upper arm. "Breathe. You are alright now."

"Seb-ah." The boy gasped, hands finding purchase on the man's sleeve. After a moment of complete silence and uneasy eye contact, the Earl groaned out a tired "Bloody hell." Adrenaline leaving him in a huff as he slumped back down into his covers. "It was a dream?"

"It was... something." The servant said swiftly, "I believe I advised you _not_ to read too late."

The boy glared up at his butler, eyes peeking out from his covers. "Shut up." He mumbled, voice muffled by the blankets.

"You'll be tired tomorrow if you do not get some rest now. It is late." The butler commented, retrieving the book from his charge's lap and placing it on his bedside cabinet.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes, it is Christmas tomorrow, my Lord. Surely you did not forget." Sebastian offered, shifting his weight and placing the candelabra onto the bare nightstand. "Would you like me to bring you something to drink?"

"Hold on. What time is it?" The child asked, moving to sit up once more.

"It is almost midnight, sir."

"But that's impossible!" The Earl implored, jumping out of bed and searching for his clock. "It was one o'clock when I finished reading."

"Master, you really shouldn't get out of bed."

"It was one!" He continued, hands gripping onto the edge of the fireplace as he moved to stand on his tippy toes. He squinted in the dim light of the room and searched for the time.

"I believe you're mistaken, sir."

"I... I cannot even remember going to sleep." He mumbled absently as he watched the clock hands dance around one another. _11:43._ A pair of non-metallic hands rested on his shoulders, coaxing an exhausted sigh from the boy. They gently rubbed, trailing up and down the child's tense shoulders.

"Come, master. If you are not careful Saint Nicholas will skip this mansion entirely. You know how much Finnian has anticipated his visit." Sebastian murmured, drawing the boy into his chest and leading him to bed.

"But Sebastian, I stopped reading when the clock struck one. Then I moved to go to sleep but my dressing room door opened. No one was in there but... but..."

"My Lord?"

"Could you stay here?"

Sebastian's smile tenderly mocked the boy as he tucked him in. "You are worked up." He clarified, "whatever you saw does not exist. You are as safe as can be under my care. Never forget that."

"I know, it's just-"

"I will stay with you, do not worry." He said with a sickly expression. "Would you like anything to drink?"

"No. I... no." The boy stated, easing himself further under the covers. "Just... don't go."

"I won't." The butler agreed, settling into the wall as he watched his master drift off into a disturbed slumber.

* * *

The boy started when his clock chimed one, eyes feeling drawn open like curtains. He groaned from between chapped lips and slowly rolled onto his side.

"Sebastian?" He whispered, squinting as he looked for the silhouette of his butler. "Sebastian, are you there?"

"Yes, master." Came an even reply, balancing care and distaste in a way only the Phantomhive butler could. "Another nightmare?"

"No. I'm fine. Where _are_ you?" He asked, propping himself up on one elbow, still searching for that impossibly dark figure. "Come here, I won't talk to you from so far away."

It felt as if the man travelled quicker than time would allow, his mass shifting in a way so inhuman and unsettling that the Earl struggled to keep his expression schooled. "I apologise."

Slumping back down onto his side, the earl watched as the curve of the man's face slowly bled into view. His usual placated smile and unusually rusty eyes dotted out a map of his face, so much so that the boy found himself wanting to trail his fingers over the man's nose and ears as if looking for buried treasure or at least an 'x'.

The servant was incredibly close, and the boy wondered how Sebastian managed to stoop so low. Was he kneeling? Or crossing his legs? Or squatting? The idea made him smirk. "You were calling for him again."

"Who?"

"Your brother, my Lord. Master Ciel." Sebastian clarified, "you told me to inform you if you did that again."

"Yes. I remember." The boy grumbled, hand groping at the sheets. He found himself relaxing, eyes fluttering shut as he listened to his butler's breathing. He dipped in and out of consciousness, sleep pooling around him. "I saw a carriage."

"Pardon?"

"Earlier, I saw a carriage. It stopped at the goose and hound." He clarified, hand moving closer to the edge of his bed as he searched for something warmer to paw at. "I got to the last chapter."

He heard the creaking of floorboards as Sebastian shifted from his unknown position into a similarly anonymous one. "You shouldn't have read for so long."

"And then he stabbed me. He _stabbed_ me, Sebastian. My brother. Why... why would someone do that?" He derided, fingers peeping out from the sandwich of mattress and covers. "But that carriage... it made me hungry."

"Would you like something to eat?"

"No!" The boy groaned, grasping onto his butler's icy watch chain and immediately letting go as if it had burnt him. "I've already told you. I want you to stay. And listen... and stay."

"Sir?"

"Stay. Listen. Yes?"

"Of course." The butler said and carefully pushed the drooping hand back under the covers. He watched the child tangle his little fingers into the warmth of his bed and he listened as a garbled mess of haphazard words spewed from his hysterical young master.

He found himself smiling all the same and he nodded along, offering quiet support and even quieter comfort as the boy slowly drifted off once more.

His pupil seemed to be doing just fine. 

* * *

"...er."

"... master."

"Young Master."

The child raised his heavy eyelids, attacked by a festering shade of yellow as it spilt over everything in sight.

"Master, do not attempt to get up." A voice chimed, clicking with every 't'.

"Sebastian?"

The boy jumped when a long, wet trail led itself up his arm. There was an affirmative yap as something bumped into the palm of the boy's slumbering hand.

Yellows dampened into grey, wispy hair and deep, aged wrinkles. "Tanaka? What are you doing here?" He asked, squeezing his right eye shut and hoping that Tanaka had seen nothing.

A fickle laugh trailed towards the boy and the man brought a hand to his master's forehead. "I came to wake you. Master Phantomhive wishes to know if you are well enough to join your brother and mother as they open presents."

"Pardon?"

"Do you believe you are well enough to get up?"

"Well, yes, I suppose." He replied, curious. "Sorry, who wishes to know if I'm well?"

"Your father... are you quite alright?" The man questioned, wise eyes hollowing out with wonderment. He watched earnestly as the boy slowly rose from the sheets, watched as he looked around with charming interest and as the boy grew more and more dumbfounded.

"What day is it?"

"The day?" The man laughed, voice slicing through the thick syrup of the morning. "Why, it is Christmas Day."

"Christmas... where's Sebastian?" The child asked, hair falling flatly against his head. Another yap arrived and he finally looked down. "Sebastian?" The black wolfhound grinned and edged closer to his side. "Just... just what is going on here? Who believed this would be an adequate prank to play on me? Eh?"

"Master..." Tanaka said, "there is no prank."

"What is this _nonsense?"_ The Earl hissed, shoving the covers off of his startled self. The elderly butler complained, rushing too and fro as to catch the unruly child. "Tell Sebastian I need to see him. Now!" The boy flung himself out of bed, a harsh yelp and stumble leaving him as his legs hit the floor faster than he expected.

"Master, please calm down, you have only just recovered." The man pleaded.

"I don't like this joke. Not at all." The boy spat as he was sat back onto the bed. "I don't know where you got the dog or why I'm in a different room."

"This is not a different room, sir and Sebastian has been the family dog for years."

"Liar!" The boy howled, "If you were telling the truth then my father would be-"

"Merry Christmas!" Vincent Phantomhive cheered as he entered the room, face aglow. He paused, stopping in the doorway. "Now what has happened in here?"

Tanaka bowed in the direction of his master and looked back at the child. "Sorry for the delay." He apologised. "I was just getting the young master up."

"No need to apologise, how is my little boy doing this morning? Are you feeling better?" He asked as he stalked forward, hand reaching to ruffle the light feathers of his son's hair.

The poor boy did not know whether he was to lean in or away, he found himself stuck in a confusing limbo of choices. His eyes sunk to his lap.

Thin legs stared up at him, their baby fat slowly dripping away. These were _not_ the same legs he had stared down at not five hours ago. This was not the same place that he had been in not five _minutes_ ago.

This was his bedroom. His childhood bedroom. And that was his father. His _dead_ father.

Dead. Dead. Dad. Dead. Dad.

"Daddy?" He found himself coughing up, bewilderment spewing into his thin, baby-fat-coated lap. His right eye fluttered open as jumped at the hand, and the man, his father moving closer. Vincent Phantomhive voiced a grand laugh and trailed his arms around the boy's back, holding him close.

"Now, now." He chuckled, hand slowly rubbing circles on his son's back. "What has you so worked up?"

The boy blinked, wondering what had transpired. Surely this was a dream? It felt so real.

He clung to his sturdy father, sobbing into his sleeve as he realised exactly what this meant. What this _all_ meant. If this was Christmas Day and his father and dog were still alive, if the only Sebastian that existed was nothing more than a hound then this was 1884. He was still a child, a _real_ one.

He had not been tempted and taken by the devil. He could be as vulnerable as he wished and no one would raise a sceptical eyebrow or quirk their flippant lips.

It was sound.

It was blissful.

It was _ignorantly_ blissful.

"I just... _really_ missed you." He sobbed, dragging the man closer into him. "Could we... can we go downstairs now?"

"Of course." Vincent laughed, slowly pulling his son's legs up so they rested in his arms. He cradled the boy close, watching carefully as his son nuzzled his head into the crook of the man's neck, hiccups leaving his pink mouth. "Of course." He repeated and nodded to Tanaka before walking out of his sons' bedroom.

Even if this was a dream, it felt real. And that was good enough for him.

The boy watched with wide eyes as an endless stream of maids and cooks and butlers rushed through the merry corridors of the Phantomhive estate. It felt as if everything was _alive_ in the mansion. As if something was laughing and gasping and chatting in every corner of the home. As if it was lived in.

Innumerable amounts of people wished him a merry Christmas and he found himself wishing one back, voice slowly picking up its youthful lilt. He felt as if he was being born again.

The child almost sobbed at the sight of his mother and brother (clean and without gaping holes to be poked and prodded), both perched daintily by the Christmas tree, laden with candles and presents. Rachel and Ciel looked like decorations themselves, sculpted by a craftsman and painted with the most expensive of acrylics. They grinned in a mercilessly adoring way, leaving the child helpless to their hugs and kisses.

He tore into a gift, face scrunching up in anticipation. He had not opened this many gifts in what felt like years. His smile _had_ been real. He so wanted it to be real. His smile and this place.

But as the multitude of presents slipped out of their coverings, his smile found itself straining. _I have seen these all before._

"Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful." He answered sombrely, the nutcracker rolling over his open hands. "Thank you." He had foreseen the glossy blues and fevered reds that climbed up the wood of the present. He already knew how many nuts it would crack and where the maids would put it when they tired of its services. He already knew that it was _not_ something that had survived the fire and _not_ something that Sebastian deemed necessary to recreate.

He was holding a pile of ash.

A quiet hand slid into his and the lady of the house drew her son to face her. "Merry Christmas," Rachel whispered gorgeously, her gentle voice sweeping the fringe back from the boy's forehead. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes." He mumbled back, eyes refusing to meet their predecessor's. Her hands came to rest on his arms, drawing them up until his head went with them.

"You should always look at an adult when they are speaking to you." She chastised lightly. "What's wrong?"

He had been wondering what crying with both eyes would feel like. He had not felt _that_ for years.

His vision blurred, soft lines of blonde hair melting into cristal eyes and rosy lips, the tears made her look even gentler. His mother smiled and he smiled back, hand reaching up to cup the face he had almost forgotten.

"What's _wrong_?"

The boy bristled when the sparkling silvers darkened into blacks and blues, harsh bruises on his mother's face. Her candied soprano of a voice had morphed.

Now he _knew_ the dream was over.

Reaching out one last time, the boy sobbed, holding her close. "Everything." He whispered and sank into the arms of his ashy mother. He cried, hoping that his tears would stick her back together.

She hushed him, voice still stumbling down through the octaves.

"Don't go." He gasped and sniffled into her chamomile hair. "I'm so sad without you."

"You are not without me." Half her voice said, so distant and pale that the child could almost feel it dribbling through his fingers.

He blinked and she was gone, her concerned whispers dying on the air. The bruise had engulfed the whole room now, as if his eyes had been closed for the entire day and night had sunk into the manor.

A gasp of air left him as he felt the firm body of his servant where his mother once was.

Sebastian knelt on the centre of the carpet with the child on his lap, hands stuck between pulling the Earl closer and pushing him away. "Why does this keep on happening? Am I to see everything I have done?" The child asked, not expecting an answer.

There was a moment of silence as the butler's hands decided what they should do. With the fluidity of a mannequin, the servant's arms lifted from the boy's ankles to his spine. Sebastian began patting the boy's back. His touches were heavy and metallic, dragging over the cotton nightshirt as if the Earl was being comforted by a clock. Sebastian's mind ticked away, wondering if he had gone too far.

"How am I down here? In the reception room, I mean."

"I... you shouldn't be out of bed."

"I know." He replied, eyes falling shut as the hands softened and fell into a soothing rhythm. _Practice makes perfect._ "I'm the only one, right?" He murmured and slipped further into his butler's jacket. "I'm the only Ciel."

Sebastian made no sound again and his brushes stopped too. It was _then_ that the Phantomhive boy could really hear the silence, feel as it crept into the pores of his skin. "Yes. Of course, you are. _That_ Ciel died many years ago."

"Will I see him again?"

"No." Sebastian's voice sounded so sure it bordered on absurdity. "I devoured that Ciel."

The _other_ Ciel bit his lip and tugged on the back of the servant's clothes. "Why do you never call me such then, if I am the only Ciel?"

"Becuase... I think..." Sebastian sighed and his master's eyebrows furrowed at the uncertainty that followed the butler's words. "I think you should go to bed."

The boy lifted his head up once more and gave his servant a dejected look before nodding. "I don't know if there's any point in sleeping now, though. I will need to be up again soon, no?"

"Master..." Sebastian began, drawing the boy closer into his arms. "It is almost one in the morning. You must go to sleep again." He felt a heavy head rest on his shoulder and spidery fingers dance up the back of his tailcoat. The child melted against him, treating him like a bed rather than a human.

"Pardon?"

"One o'clock, sir. You cannot stay awake." Sebastian replied, "I can make you a drink if you wish." 

The Phantomhive boy's mind span and his nails dug further into Sebastian's back. _This is just as before_ _, the night continues to reset itself_ _._ He thought. _I must not fall asleep_. "Only if you'll take me to the kitchens with you." He bargained, eyes straining to see his butler in the dark.

Sebastian sighed and hoisted the child up into the air, "of course, my Lord." He agreed eventually, "just don't make a habit out of it."

"I won't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Christmas is a drag sometimes,  
> Please say next year that you will be mine,  
> All you've got to do,  
> Is say that I love you,  
> And Christmas this next year will be fine."


	3. The Boy is Ignorance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music:  
> Merry Christmas Everybody by iDKHOW
> 
> "Are you waiting for the family to arrive?  
> Are you sure you got the room to spare inside?...

The Earl felt subdued to the level of a child as his legs dangled off the edge of the counter. Sebastian had put him down _tenderly_ , asking if he was okay _tenderly_. The boy had nodded and shuffled back, ignoring the cold burnt onto his bare thighs. Finally, Sebastian had smiled _tenderly_ which made the boy feel sick.

The butler turned his back and moved to retrieve the tea leaves and the milk and the sugar and the honey. The Earl watched as the pile of ingredients gradually built up and his mouth parted. The Phantomhive butler paid no attention to his master, acting as if he was not even there. Said master did not like that.

"Why do you need so many-" The boy paused when a strange noise came from the butler, his jaw snapped shut as Sebastian waltzed past him to retrieve a spoon, "are you alr-" he attempted to ask but was silenced when he was given a sharp look by the butler. The noise continued and the Earl silenced himself, stuttering to a halt when he realised the butler was _humming_.

He was _truly_ acting as if his master wasn't there.

Sebastian's voice dipped down and the boy found himself following, his ears attempting to catch the minim tumbling from his butler's mouth. He gripped onto the frozen side and leaned forward, staring at the man's back and wondering what was swimming through his head as he murmured.

Sebastian continued to work efficiently, hands grasping onto a pot and gliding over to fill it with water. The melody still played with the consistency of a song crackling on the phonograph. As if it had been practised time and time again.

Sebastian's voice was akin to honeycomb, entirely too saccharine. It made the boy's sweet tooth twinge, his jaw turning his molars to powder. He daren't move or speak for he feared the song would end and he would be left, giddy and emotional.

The Earl allowed his head to fall back, listening as his servant continued to fly and dip, hands moving fluidly between the hob and serving tray and voice crawling into the child's soul. The boy thought about his dreams, he thought about his parents and his brother. And Christmas. What a strange time of year it was, with all the presents and the traditions and the carols.

Mournful eyes stared up at the ceiling, tears welling up in the most torturous way possible. "What is that song?" He murmured from his throat, eyes forcing their way shut. The humming ceased and he lamented its loss for a moment.

Sebastian turned away from the hob and smiled distantly, some far removed memory washing over his musty eyes. "I... cannot quite remember." He admitted softly, "all I know is that it meant a lot to me, and to the person that composed it."

The boy wasn't sure how to answer that. "O-Oh." He stammered instead, cheeks flushing when his butler turned and smirked at him. _Respectfully_ , of course. "Well... how do you know that it meant a lot to someone if you don't know who they are?" He asked, attempting to sound steely.

"Actually Sir, I said I cannot remember what song it is. I remember the person quite well." He explained, "the lyrics I remember too. But the name, that always escapes me."

"Surely it's the first line of the chorus?" The child asked, curiosity sparking at the prospect of a new challenge. One that didn't involve him or his past in the slightest.

Sebastian shook his head, no. "It is not that."

"How do you know?"

"I just do," Sebastian said carefully, checking the boiling pot of water before turning to his master. "It was something strange. I always asked him why he chose that name."

"Who?"

"The composer." He answered. "Perhaps you could be of service master." He said slyly, watching as the boy furrowed his eyebrows. "Would you like to hear the lyrics?"

The boy flushed again, shifting on his seat. _What the bloody hell am I to say to that?_ He thought. "Erm... I suppose that would be alright."

_"Lully, lullay, thou little tiny child_   
_Bye, bye, lully, lullay_   
_Lullay, thou little tiny child_   
_Bye, bye, lully, lullay"_

Sebastian's voice was a haunting, chilled thing. It rang around the kitchen and the boy found himself frozen to the core.

The snow outside pummelled the high windows in time with the poignant lullaby and the boy found a yawn bleeding through his throat.

_"O sisters, too, how may we do_   
_For to preserve this day_   
_This poor youngling for whom we sing_   
_Bye, bye, lully, lullay"_

The Earl began to wonder if Sebastian was some kind of siren, no, sandman. The longer he sang and the more words that spilt from his lips, the deeper the boy fell into sleep. It called for him.

_No!_ He pleaded with himself. _The whole reason you came here was to stave away the sleep!_

_"Herod the King, in his raging_   
_Charged he hath this day_   
_His men of might, in his own sight_   
_All children young, to slay"_

A Carol. It was a carol. A Christmas Carol. A flood of unanswered questions rushed through the boy as he shuffled back, grunting when he hit the wall.

He watched with watery eyes as the butler continued to work, the faint sound of bubbling water lulling him even further.

The wind continued to howl as the snow pelted itself at the frosted glass. _Why does it have to be cold? Everything is frozen at Christmas. Why?_

_"Then woe is me, poor child, for thee_   
_And ever morn and day_   
_For thy parting, nor say nor sing"_

The Earl found his fight to stay awake gone. He slowly brought his legs onto the counter so he could ground himself. His head lolled onto his knees and he felt himself tumbling into unconsciousness.

_"Bye, bye, lully, lullay..._

_Sweet dreams... Ciel Phantomhive."_

* * *

Coldness clawed its way up the boy's legs and wrapped around his neck. That woke Ciel up first. He groaned and attempted to move, sharp stabbing pains slicing their way into his thighs. A rush of wind swept the hair from his brow and the boy found himself shivering fervently.

His eyes cracked open, a dull ache pressing on his lids. It was dark, wherever he was. The child struggled to make out shapes in the dim shadows and his legs stretched out. He yelped when pebbles scraped lines onto his legs and he lifted them again.

Blinking feverishly, the Phantomhive boy groaned and placed his hands onto the ground he sat on. It was cold and wet, fingers dancing over slimy cobble. His breath caught when he felt the same slick stone press against his back.

To his right, a soft tinkle of a bell sounded followed by various less soft shouts. "You bloody bastard!" Howled a low voice, ricocheting over the pavements. "Get that kid!" He continued, growling with contempt as a child dashed down the street, food in hand. Ciel blinked idiotically, eyes focusing on the hue of damp light coming from minute shops dotting the roadsides.

The thief ran towards him, a toothless grin adorning his face. Slithers of mud crawled up his cheeks and into his eyebrows, finally reaching the thin hem of his brown hair. His clothes were all shapes and sizes, no doubt made and remade for people older and younger than him. His steps were quiet thuds on the path, sporadic but well practised. Something told Ciel that he had done this many times before.

The grubby East-Ender dashed past him, a loaf of bread accidentally tumbling into the Earl's lap. The thief glanced at Ciel before smiling and dashing around a corner, leaving laughter in his wake. The Phantomhive stared down at the loaf as if it were an alien creature.

"Give that back you twit!" The shop owner snarled from his shop door, rushing forward. The Earl dashed to his feet, a shocked gasp falling as his right eye attempted to adjust to the depth of the street. He clasped onto the wall and loaf of bread respectively, fingers digging into the dough.

"You've got it all wrong." He stammered, backing away from the baker. Had he not woken in the middle of London and were the man not holding a rolling pin as he stormed closer, the boy may have taken a moment to calm himself. "I'm not... I didn't."

The man took to running and the Earl did the same, feet wincing as they crashed onto the slick shale of the pavement. Dots of snow melted into dewy skin as he dashed away, asthma rearing its ugly head. He gasped with each intake of frigid air, grunts of the irate baker trailing behind him.

Suddenly, a hand reached from within the abyss of an alley and the boy was dragged in, swallowed by darkness once more. He went to scream but a calloused hand clamped itself over his mouth. 

The shop owner hurled past and the Earl gasped when his back was shoved into the wall. He whimpered and dropped to the floor with a faint thud. Ciel stilled, needles of pain shooting through his spine.

"Oh no."

"What've ya done! You've killed 'im!"

"E's not _killed_ him. Look, he's breathin'."

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." The first voice stammered again and Ciel felt someone kneel next to him and hands began to search his person.

The Earl grunted and rolled onto his back, head wet with ice. "Get off me." He hissed and the hands retreated. Slowly he sat up, hunching over and wheezing into his lap.

Silence lurked in the alley and Ciel turned to face his three kidnappers. He recognised the thief from before, his toothless smile gone. Next to him stood two other children, both appeared to be slightly older than the Earl. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to hit your head." The older boy explained, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"'E's tellin' the truth. He never knows what he's doin'" A girl commented, shooting a harsh look at who Ciel assumed was her brother.

The Phantomhive boy didn't quite know how to respond. The youngest child picked up the discarded loaf of bread and smiled again, shoving it in the air. "Thank you for keepin' the bread nice 'n' safe." He said and shoved it into a chestnut-coloured sack. Then, he paused, eyebrows scrunching as he inched closer to Ciel. "You look re-a-ly pale. Are you sure you're doin' okay?"

"I'm fine." Ciel wheezed, throat collapsing in on itself as a rough bought of coughing wracked his frame. The three children paused, mouths parted. "It's... it's nothing... I just need to leave here." He choked again.

The three siblings glanced at one another, an unspoken argument flying from person to person. "Say..." the oldest boy began, shuffling closer. "Would you like to come home with us? You sound really bad and our mum would look after you."

"I assure you, I'm fine." He groaned and attempted to stand up, his legs shaking from adrenaline and running. Ciel stumbled into the arms of the boy and apologised weakly.

"Please. We feel really bad."

"I don't. I've nothin' to do with this." The girl snorted, flipping her nose high into the air. Her brother elbowed her side and she faltered, remembering her _abundance_ of manners. "But... if you're gonna go dyin' out here if we leave you... you better come." She breathed begrudgingly.

"All... alright. As long as... I mean I don't want to impose." The Earl agreed slowly, "just until someone is able to pick me up."

His whole person was then guided by the two boys, the haughty girl strutting ahead. No doubt feeling untouchable.

They wandered down the battered streets of London. Everything seemed to crumble around them, jagged stone buildings spluttered their way down to damp, wooden floors. There were no street lights dotting the Roman roads, and the moon was shrouded by shadows of top-heavy houses, all crowded over each other, curling and twisting to attain dominance, like a set of uneven teeth.

Ciel continued to shiver, the snow beginning to dot milky-grey paths on the cobble. _It's going to be a white Christmas._ He mused as the petals of ice caught up with the molars of the East-End.

It felt even colder here than in the manor gardens, the damp from washing lines whispering wet breaths onto the back of his neck. Gooseflesh prickled up on chilled skin and the boy found himself forcing one foot in front of the other, feeling as if he had become the mannequin Sebastian had seemed to be not an hour ago.

Ciel had previously considered- upon waking up- worrying about where he was and why he was there. Instead, he had found himself so repulsed and terrified by previous phantoms of the past that he did not even care. The Earl believed that _nothing_ was worse than having one's brother pierce them through their chest and _nothing_ was worse than seeing the life one could have had.

So he continued to ignore his butler's name, knowing that every time he begged him to arrive, it stroked the man's ego. And it was obvious that he could hear his name being called.

Sebastian was doing this after all.

The home they arrived at was thin and unattractive, it barely pierced through the wall of other houses paving the streets. The Earl had known that he lived a lavish existence and he was already aware of the harsh conditions that surrounded the impoverished. Even so, the sight of the three children dashing towards their rickety house, to be greeted by their rickety life and rickety family made something gnaw away at the boy.

"Is this where you live?" He asked quietly, fingers and toes freezing from the cold. The children turned to look at him, faces confused and bashful.

"Yeah," the girl bolstered, "you got a problem with it?"

Ciel flinched, the venom in her tone being something he rarely experienced. Clearly, he had hit a nerve. The Earl doubted that even _he_ would feel that defensive about his own home, even though this house was nothing to shout about. "No... it looks... cosy." He sniffled into his sleeve.

An assured hand clapped onto his back and he lurched forward. "It sure is!" The eldest boy grinned, the same hand moving to grab onto a chilled wrist. "Now come inside, you'll freeze out here."

The light of the house was damp but welcoming, and the warmth even more so. All four of the children bristled and shivered, bones thawing out. The toothless boy stormed into the room and flung his satchel onto the table, the table was full of pine cones and holly, jabs of fern and slithers of material picked from the streets. Mismatched pots and pans lined for battle and a small array of dirty vegetables scattered themselves across the wood.

Every few seconds the house would groan as if it was about to float away, the jagged tooth of a building being swallowed by the night. Ciel certainly felt as if he could drift away from the world, severing himself from all possessions he owned. He swayed on his spot and looked down at the itchy cloth separating his feet from the floor.

"Mum!" The older boy called as he swung on a weak bannister. "We're back." It creaked in retaliation and Ciel was surprised it didn't snap in two. A few moments later, a woman gently glided down the stairs, dress flooded with dirt at its base.

The Earl found himself pausing as the woman reached the bottom of the stairs. She had a kind face and an even kinder smile. She leant over her son and ran her hands up and down his arms. "You're chilled to the very core." She stated, "have you be doing it again?"

The boy nodded bashfully and ducked his head when she sighed.

A weathered hand cupped his cheek and lifted his face. It was such a motherly act, Ciel felt as if it was his Rachel standing in the room, chastising his brother. "James..."

"I know, mother, but you said that we didn't have enough oranges for the turkey and we had no bread for the bread and butter pudding." He explained, cheeks flushing the longer he looked into her muddy eyes. "I'm sorry. We just wanted to help."

She sighed again, tone laced with fake disappointment. "You know I'll have hell to pay if anyone recognised you." She said before laughing and tugging her son closer. "But thank you."

The mother was a frail woman, a mere wisp of a person with a bony body and light ginger hair. Her clothes were more of a collection of patches than a dress but she wore it as if it were new. Her manner was refined and well-trained, the boy wondered if she had ever worked for the gentry and if she ever would again. Her eyes were dark and beady with sparkly things in them and as they trained themselves on the Phantomhive boy, he found himself being scrutinised by the galaxy, stars and moons dancing as she moved closer.

"My, whatever happened to you?" She gushed and paused in front of the ghost-of-a-child.

"We found him on the street!" Toothless beamed, hands on his hips. "James smashed 'is head in!"

"I what? No, I didn't!" James argued.

The woman ignored her sons in favour of placing an icy hand between hers. "You poor little thing." She cooed and Ciel found himself struggling to find a retort. No one had been this patronising towards him for years but the boy couldn't bring himself to spit back as he usually would. "Come and sit by the fire... why are you in nightclothes, dear?" She hummed and led the child towards the lone fireplace, embers spitting out small flames. The boy shuddered at the memory of his brother, pinning him down on the cold tiled floor and dragging a gleaming poker high into the air.

Higher and higher and then...

"From?"

"Pardon?" He croaked, eyes shifting from the fireplace to the mother. She stood beside him, pouring water into a kettle as it dangled above the flames.

She chuckled before glancing at him again. "I asked where you came from, honey." She repeated, "can you remember?"

"I don't come from around here." He admitted and yelped when a bundle of dusty blankets were shoved on his shoulders. He turned to see the girl staring down at him, lips thin and eyebrows furrowed.

"Here you go." She said sternly. Then, the girl exchanged an embarrassed look with her mother before introducing herself. "My name is Pamela... nice to meet you." She grit before holding out a stiff hand. "What is your name?" She asked without really wanting to.

"Erm, Ciel."

"Right, great." She stated and looked as if she was waiting for a meaningful response. "Bye." She concluded instead and stormed off, marching right up the stairs.

The mother laughed into the palm of her hand, "you'll have to excuse Pam. She gets awfully embarrassed when around boys."

Ciel found himself flushing and nodding, hands slipping to his lap. He coughed, throat rough and sore. He glanced at the blankets before tugging one around his front.

"So where are you from?"

"I'm from a... village, on the edge of town." He said quietly, attempting to decide whether it was a lie or not. "I don't really know how I got here, to be honest."

"Oh dear." She sighed, "you've got to be terrified." She added, simply assuming that the boy couldn't even _think_ for himself. "You speak well, though."

"So do you." He replied.

She laughed again before peering into the kettle. "Why, thank you. I've always loved to read, I pride myself on it." She leant back in her chair again, clearly deciding that a watched pot _never_ boils. "My father used to write stories and I'd read them." She told Ciel and her eyes glazed over as she thought of something almost intangible, something so distant and faint that Ciel remembered the Carol Sebastian had sung for him earlier, and the look that shrouded _his_ eyes. "James, my eldest, loves to read as well. Perhaps you could tell?"

The Earl nodded without even remembering who James was. His mind was already busy, cursing Sebastian for putting him to sleep with the supposedly _anonymous_ Carol. It was stupid, really. Especially considering the Earl had heard the song many times before. "Do you write?" He asked absentmindedly, feet tucking into the sheets.

The mother smiled and shook her head. "I don't have paper. Or time."

"Oh."

"It's fine though. I get to read books." She began, reaching for the jet black kettle, lifting it off of its hook and tipping tea leaves in. "Would you like some tea?" She asked and Ciel nodded vehemently, never gladder to hear the question. "I know the boy who sells the newspapers around here. I can get them cheaper than usual." The mother explained, retrieving two stout mugs and setting them down on a skeletal table. "Sometimes, I even get whole books. Do you get a chance to read books, dear?"

"Sometimes." He lied. "We have a few books." Another lie. Ciel paused, listening as the house groaned and fought with the wind. A stampede of excited footsteps bounced overhead, the three siblings clearly readying themselves for something. _Oh._ The Earl thought. _It is Christmas soon._

"They'll be in bed shortly. Perhaps you would like to sleep upstairs too? It'll be cold down here." The mother explained, handing the Earl his drink.

Lifting the mug to his lips, Ciel scrunched his nose at the strength of the tea- and the milk- "I wasn't expecting to sleep here." He said, "my guardian should be looking for me." He took a sip. It was a heavy drink, a brand of cheap black tea with far too potent spices, it almost made him choke. "What books do you have?" He asked.

"Oh, not many. I like Christmas books." She added, mildly sipping on her own drink. "Do you like Christmas books?"

"No." The boy said far too quickly. "I mean... I don't like some of them. I don't like the one I'm reading at the moment." He explained and sipped again, fighting off a shudder at the powdery drink. "A Christmas Carol."

The mother widened her eyes before standing up. "How funny." She said, "that's my favourite."

"Y-you have a copy of it?" Ciel asked, mind snapping to attention. The woman turned back to him and nodded, book in hand. "Could I... would I be able to read it?"

"I thought you didn't like it."

"I just need to read the last chapter." He said, words like coal in his mouth. "I didn't finish it." _And I don't know how it will end._ He wanted to say, thinking of Sebastian and his pranks again. "Could I?"

"Well, I suppose." She said, "you must go to sleep soon, though." She added and passed the book on. Ciel grabbed it from her slim fingers and skidded his way to the end of Stave Four.

_"Before I draw nearer to that stone to which you point," said Scrooge, "answer me one question. Are these the shadows of the things that Will be, or are they shadows of things that May be, only?"_

_Still the ghost-_

A loud knock shook the fluttering house. Both Ciel and the Mother turned to the door, watching as shadows began to gasp onto stale walls. They had surely not been there before. They were long and intimidating, large and terrifying. Familiar.

"No." Ciel gasped, fingers going slack. "Just let me finish reading."

Suddenly, the door cried and the house groaned, hinges snapping as darkness flooded the house. The fire shuddered out, all of the stolen clutter shooting at walls, making horrendous smacking sounds.

Ciel yelped as his nose and mouth and ears flooded with inky darkness, he held his breath, feeling as if his head had been shoved under a blanket of ice. Gripping the book, he blinked the black away, even as it festered around his right eye.

Drawing the book closer, it was ripped and torn but he still desperately searched for the ending he hoped for.

_Still the Ghost pointed downward to the grave by which it stood._

_"Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must-_

A coil of black tied itself around his wrist and tugged, Ciel stumbled where he stood, 'A Christmas Carol' slipped into the abyss.

"Go away." He hissed as the tendrils of ebony multiplied, dragging him closer to the entryway. "I won't be bullied by you anymore. You have done enough." He ordered but the shadows only laughed.

"How cruel you are to me."

The wind whipped and snapped, just as his dressing room window had. It had been him. It had all been him.

It was _always_ him.

Ciel laughed humourlessly, staring right up where he knew the beast would be watching him from. "And what are you now, then? A butler or a _demon?"_

A slit of a mouth broke free and blinding white canines bit into the night. Ciel struggled despite himself, wrists tangled in ink as the form began to morph. It was a haunting sight, one that dragged him back to his cage when he lost his brother and his future, bitten short by those terrifying teeth. Ciel pulled away, tugging his hand and hissing when his wrists split.

"Well?"

The being growled obscenely, a howl ripping through its form as tendrils became hands, wisps of midnight became hair and slips of black became legs.

The Sebastian Ciel was most used to appeared, grin tight and eyes wild. "Why, I am the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come." He cooed, hand slipping to lift the bloody wrists to his mouth. "Were you not paying attention to the story at all?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Do you ride on down the hillside,  
> In a buggy you have made?  
> When you land upon your head, then you've been slayed."


	4. Slowly, Gravely, Silently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music:  
> Please Don't Jump (It's Christmas) by Dallon Weekes
> 
> "Another year's over,  
> The snow starts to fall,  
> Just like you would,  
> If you ended it all...

"I'm not scared of you." Ciel hissed as the monster held him closer, noses an inch apart.

Sebastian's smile grew, lips coming apart at their seams as he breathed out an; "Oh?" Eyes a garnet red, he let his black hair melt into the darkness cloaking the pair. "I really think you should be." He advised, tongue darting out and licking at the blood dribbling down his contractee's forearms. "I could gobble you up right now." The being threatened and watched closely as fear tugged at the boy's soul. "I'm so hungry. And you look so... appetising."

Ciel shook his head, "you wouldn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really now? Just how do you know?"

The Earl thought for a moment, movements ceasing as he allowed his whole body to be tugged from the ground. "Because you can't hurt me. Our contract is still in motion."

"You trust a demon's promises too much," Sebastian scoffed, "in the end, it would be your word against mine and I highly doubt you could argue a case from within me." He bolstered, form flickering from grotesque to inhuman and back again. "And I don't believe the reapers care much for you, unfortunately."

Ciel snorted before snapping his wrists to his sides, surprising the demon. "I suppose your love for aesthetics is a good thing now, no?" He grinned, watching as interest crackled in a pool of magenta. "Now, let me go before I have to order something truly horrid." He challenged, pointing his nose up and hoping that his performance had been good enough.

The demon loomed closer, pulling the Earl by the scruff of his nightshirt before pushing him away. "Right as always, _Master."_

Ciel hid his panting by standing straight, spine strained and uncomfortable. "So, What are you going to show me, _phantom_?" He returned with an equal force of sarcasm, lips thin and disapproving. "If you plan to give me Christmas joy, it will not work. You are not more terrifying than my past."

A clawed hand rose to scratch the demon's chin. "Yes, I suppose that is true. My task has been made much more difficult seeing as you know you'll be dead soon."

"And due to the fact that I _know_ you cannot predict the future." Ciel smiled, watching as one of his servant's eyebrows rose.

"That too, yes." Sebastian agreed, foot-tapping from somewhere within the darkness. "Oh, I know." He finally announced. "I'll tell you what will happen to those you _love_ when I'm 'let off the leash'." He said, paying close attention to the spike of dread flickering in the Earl's soul. He grinned and nodded, knowing that he was going to win his little game. "That is what I will do."

"You... you cannot scare me," Ciel grumbled unenthusiastically, face paling a few shades. "Show me whatever you want, just get on with it." He ordered.

The butler hummed his agreement. "As you wish." He said, "but I believe we must first find somewhere more suited to our discussion... your arm, please." He requested, holding an arm out to the boy.

Begrudgingly, Ciel hooked his elbow over his butler's forearm and stepped along with him down a blind alley. The boy was led down the dark abyss of nowhere, his whole body relying on the demon's form to stay stable.

With every step and stumble, the gradient of nowhere shifted. Inky ebony swam into dark asphalt which swam into chalky slate. Gradually, various harsh lines became concrete and silhouettes and Ciel's clothes morphed from a dirty nightshirt to a jet black suit, detailed with miniature white buckles and linings.

"Really? Black?"

Sebastian turned his head and softly smiled. "I did consider a blue suit but you look paler like this." He explained, "you understand what _this_ is, yes?"

"Of course." Ciel returned, "it is my funeral suit." He said matter-of-factly, glancing at the grass brushing at his ankles. "And we're going to my grave."

"I thought you hadn't finished Stave Four."

"I'm not a dunce. I predicted it was Scrooge dead under that blanket the moment he stepped into the future. You really do consider me a child."

"On the contrary," Sebastian began, tugging his master up a steep hill. "I treat you older than most of my contractees. You have a mind beyond your years." He complimented, "and yes, we are going to a grave."

The pair silently made their way through the tufts of jade grass and snowdrops. Patches of snow melted into the mud, slick and slippery as they strode through. Depressed trees swung by, leaves long gone and branches heavy with ice.

They reached the top, flurries of flowers and petals settled on the floor, each tip aiming towards a small gathering of tombstones. Every organism arched towards the centre, willows bowing as if to pay respect to the dead. Ciel wondered if he was deserving of such a grave.

His questions were answered, however, when he moved closer. "No." He mumbled, lips barely moving. "What is this?" He asked and turned to his butler. The man merely blinked. Infuriated, the Phantomhive boy stormed closer, dropping to his knees in front of the harsh rock. His fingers danced across the markings, forcing his mind to remember. "Why... not her... anyone but her."

Sebastian cleared his throat from behind the boy and took a step closer. "In memory of Lady Elizabeth Ethel Cordelia Midford." Another step. "A beloved daughter, sister and fiancé." Another step. "Taken from this world too soon." Another step. "May she rest in peace." Standing just behind the boy, he learnt down to breathe in his ear. "A rather plain meal, I must admit." He whispered, eyes flaring as he felt anger coarse through their contract symbols.

Ciel clenched his fists into the dirt, knees digging into the freshly dug earth as he fought back a retort.

"So was Bardroy, although I must admit his courage added an interesting... texture. Tanaka's soul was rotten to the core, as expected. Mey-Rin's loyalty and love left something sour on my pallet. Oh and little Finnian, how he cried."

"Shut up."

"I am merely informing you of those you love... and their downfalls." Sebastian continued, dropping to his knees and bumping into his master's back. Arms curled around a slim chest and the demon smiled as he felt the boy's torso rise and fall in thinly veiled rage. "That Edward fellow was rather poor quality and not to mention the sickly sweetness of Agni and Soma's souls. Truly disgusting."

"You wouldn't. You didn't."

Sebastian's head draped itself over the Earl's shoulder as he squeezed him closer. "Oh but I _did_." He murmured. "And do you know why?"

Slowly, Ciel shook his head, shuddering as hair tickled his throat. The demon grunted in response and drew him closer, tugging him onto his lap.

"I'm an _envious_ kind of demon. I _pride_ myself on my _wrath_ _._ I have sinned in ways you cannot comprehend and have thought things you could never conjure up. But still, I become obsessed with very few things." He began, tendrils spiking up again and whipping into the air. "Your soul, my Lord, has become one of the things I _lust_ after. And those that challenge your attention with their good deeds and soulful appeals are my enemies, no matter who they are to you."

"But you don't need to kill them!" Ciel implored, elbowing the man from behind. "What would it matter if you had already taken my soul, why bother? It's just more trouble."

"You have no idea of the trouble I would go to for you, sir," Sebastian explained, left hand placing itself on the boy's hip as it burned dully. "Your loyal servant. Stalwart till the end."

"And then what? You arbitrary words will catch up with me and everyone I have known will be smited?" Ciel argued, attempting to pull himself away. Fingers of smoke pulled him back down and he gasped, tendrils spinning him so he was facing the demon.

"Perhaps," Sebastian said slyly, fingers coming up to balance the child's chin. "If you misbehave."

"Misbehave! What does that mean?" Ciel hissed, chin raised and eyes watery.

Sebastian tutted and shook his head. "You should have read the ending." He reprimanded. "Scrooge becomes such a happy old man, doing the greater good." He sighed, "but it's all in vain, no? The chains had already been linked, his actions were purely for his benefit and he would never be sure if what he saw was real." The demon explained, catching a stray tear as it rolled down the boy's cheek. "So what will you do, master? Continue treating me like a mutt and suffer the grim consequences when you pass or live in fear of me and this dream you are trapped in, never truly knowing if your kind actions towards me will mean anything when you're dead and devoured."

Ciel said nothing, mouth clamped shut and eyes wide and bloodshot. He stared down from the slope of his nose at the butler, saw him for what he truly was. He had been right earlier. The only Sebastian that he knew was a wolfhound. A beast that barked at him, and only him. Doing as he was told when he felt like it.

The Earl was fed up. He was done. Ciel Phantomhive was tired. He just wanted some sleep.

_He shouldn't have stayed up so late reading._

He shouldn't have sold his soul to a demon.

"Neither!" He shouted, legs kicking out in an attempt to escape. "I choose neither! _I'm_ the one with the leash. _I_ get to choose who lives and who dies and I choose neither!"

The willows wailed as Ciel stumbled up and ran, shoes trampling the snowdrops and petaled pathways as he searched for the edge of the hill. Thick trails of ink attempted to catch up with him, their tar a stain on the grass.

He dashed over to the cliff, wondering how he had missed such an offensive jut of rock piercing the horizon line before. He inched closer, dreaming of nothing.

Because nothing was better than the alternative.

"Master!"

Ciel gasped as his whole being was drenched with cold, ice poking its way into his skin. The boy was fed up of being woken by the sheer drop in temperature and he allowed his eyes to slip open.

He was no longer at Elizabeth's grave. He was no longer in his bedroom- be it his current or childhood one. He could not see the gummy East-End with the toothless child and literate mother. There was no fire or cobble or grass.

The littlest Phantomhive was on a window ledge, facing the chocolate village just past his manor. Wind and snow battered his cheeks and he _knew_ he was awake now. Head pounding and tears freezing, he turned his head to the side to see Sebastian staring at him, stunned into submission.

"Master! What are you doing?" He called, edging closer to the window.

Ciel breathed, remembering all he had been put through on this lonely Christmas Eve. "I'm going to jump, Sebastian." He said absolutely, eyes catching magenta ones. "And you're not going to stop me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... But tonight's not the night,  
> If only you'd answer my calls."


	5. Merry as a School Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music:  
> Oh Noel by iDKHOW
> 
> "Hasn't every little Christmas card been sent?  
> Has every child been tucked into their bed?...

Ciel watched distantly as his butler shed his tailcoat, moving closer to the window. "What are you doing?" He asked.

Sebastian continued to scale the ledge, lean frame climbing to reach his master. The boy shivered from his space on the edge, eyelashes frozen in clumps as he wondered how long he had been outside. "I'm coming to get you down, sir," Sebastian explained, voice drifting away with the wind.

Although he wanted to jump, the boy's whole body refused to move, it felt as though he was stuck to the wall of his manor, just another part of the building. "I'm going to jump." He threatened, eyes blazing as the man balanced himself of the ledge.

"And I'm going to stop you."

Ciel shook his head, biting his lip as he glared down at the cobble below. "You said that you'd kill them. All of them. Everyone." Ciel cried. "And now you expect me to listen to you?" He scoffed and clamped his hands on the wall.

"I would never do such a thing." Sebastian promised, "What you saw was a _dream."_ He pleaded, edging his way further across the roofing. "I could never hurt you like that."

"You can when I'm dead," Ciel yelled, throat dry as he shouted over the pounding wind. "You can when I let you." He continued. "You can when you decide to break all your promises!" The boy sobbed, allowing an arm to fall forwards.

Sebastian made a strange sound, trapped somewhere between his human and demon form. "Stop!" He pleaded, "I will catch you. You know I will."

"Then catch me!" Ciel cried, "I give up! I'm terminating the contract!" The Phantomhive boy shouted.

There was a blaze of red as something flashed around the pair. Ciel yelled as a dash of light coursed through his right eye and he stumbled, feet slipping over the ice on the roof.

He screamed terribly, mind blanking as he felt himself tumbling off of the edge.

Immediately, a gloved hand grasped at the boy's wrist and he gasped, body swinging back and hitting a wall. He looked up, still disoriented from the blast of light, to see his servant staring down at him, fangs uncovered and expression irate.

The child shook his head as he was hoisted up. "Don't. I mean, don't take my soul yet." He found himself mumbling, the glow in the butler's eyes promising a death worse than damnation. "Just let me fall and you can take my soul then, yeah?" He offered, feet kicking at the wall.

Sebastian dragged the little human so he sat on the slippery edge, nightshirt transparent at its base. Ciel gulped, fear spearing him through his heart. "Now," Sebastian began and the boy winced, "just what are you going on about? Terminating the contract? Eating your soul?" He sighed, "I really shouldn't have let you read so late." He muttered and enclosed the boy's hands in his large, warm ones. "I simply wish to bring you inside, master." He whispered, voice floating on the drunken air. "Will you allow me to?"

The boy stared, mouth agape as he attempted to piece everything together. It didn't fit. It didn't make any sense. Sebastian was just threatening _everyone_ and now he swore he had not. Had it been a dream?

Of course, it had been a dream.

But had it been _Sebastian's_ dream?

"You are shivering." The butler noted and began to collect the broken boy into his arms, hoisting him into the air. "Please let me take you inside. No harm will come to you, nor anyone you care for." He swore and allowed the contract to blaze through his glove. 

Ciel sniffled and nodded, legs trembling as he tipped his head towards Sebastian's chest.

Once they had successfully arrived inside, the butler draped his cotton tailcoat over the frozen boy and closed the windows. "I broke the contract," Ciel mumbled.

Sebastian ran his hands up and down the boy's arms. "Do not worry about that now. There is no harm done if you do not mean it." Sebastian explained before leading the child to the bathroom.

Something about how lost the boy looked unnerved the butler. This had _not_ been the way to deal with his current contractee. The same emotionless stare persisted as the boy was stripped and lowered into the bath.

Sebastian was particularly careful not to prepare water too hot as he feared it would burn the boy. However, the warm bath appeared to snap the boy out of his trance and he leant his head back onto the lip of the tub.

"Did you do all of this?" Ciel asked rather suddenly and the butler paused, oil splashing into the water.

"Of course not," Sebastian replied before continuing, fingers carding through soft hair. "Although I may have _nudged_ your self conscious along, I couldn't predict what your mind would do with the stimulus."

"Then why?" Ciel asked, glaring up into crackling red eyes as they stared at each other. "Surely you knew that it would end with me being angry. It always does."

Sebastian's eyebrows rose, pity tipping the scales. "I wanted to try something." He admitted, eyes lowering in submission. "It did not work."

"What? Was I too _childish?"_

Sebastian thought for a moment as his fingers pulled back a wet fringe, "childish? No." He said, "you were too... defiant. Strong, even."

"Strong?" The boy laughed, "that's a new one."

Sebastian hummed, "Yes, I suppose it is." He replied and continued to wash the boy's hair. "You bested me, unfortunately." He also admitted. "You are the first one to do that."

"All these compliments?" Ciel said, "it truly is Christmas." He jested and found himself smiling wistfully, staring at the opposite wall.

Sebastian's index fingers ran along the back of the Earl's ears, bringing locks of hair back with them. Ciel sighed and sunk further into the water.

The clock in the hall began to ring, one chime followed by another. Ciel's eyes widened before he gasped out a, "I am so glad it's not one o'clock again."

Sebastian chuckled before gently pushing the child's chest towards the water.

Cold balm was lathered onto the boy's back and he shivered, the cold of the room digging into his skin. He leant on his knees, fringe tipping into the water. He watched as it danced below the surface and began to think of a song to accompany his hair's performance. "Coventry Carol."

"Pardon?"

"That hymn you sang earlier. It's called Coventry Carol." Ciel explained, a smile growing as the man's hands suddenly retreated.

After a few moments of silence, the Earl grew concerned and sat up again, he turned to see the butler frozen, lips parted and eyes unmoving.

"Sebastian?"

"You are the first person I have met that knows of the song." He began, "you are certain that is its name?" The butler continued, swooping in closer and searching for a hint of a lie in the boy's eyes.

"Yes."

"How?"

"Well, I-"

"How could you possibly-"

"Listen!" The boy demanded, grin threatening to spill out onto his face as he watched the man melt under his abundance knowledge. It felt nice to be the one teaching rather than learning. "Every year in Coventry they do a special nativity play and that is one of the hymns they sing. I was taken to it as a child. Since I've not been for many years it took me a while but I remembered it eventually."

"A nativity?" Sebastian asked and scrunched up his nose. The action was so laughably human that Ciel almost giggled. "I doubt that was why he composed it."

"Perhaps it wasn't, but that is what it is used for now." Ciel explained, "I suppose we could go and watch it, I'm sure Elizabeth would enjoy it." He said softly, smile goading his cheeks higher.

"If I didn't know you any better, I would say you were feeling jovial."

"Then it is good you know me," Ciel said, aloof and in denial. "Now, can I _please_ go to bed. I am exhausted."

"Of course."

The child felt the chill creeping up from the edge of his bed as he dug further into he covers. The sheets reached for his nose as he sniffled. He would definitely be sneezing tomorrow and his asthma was sure to attack. "Sebastian?"

"Sir?"

"Did you take down the garlands?"

"Yes, Master."

"Put them back up."

"Right away."

"And I wish to send some money to the surrounding orphanages, it's been a while, you see."

"Certainly."

"And Sebastian."

The butler paused by the door, fingers curled around the handle, "Yes, sir."

"Merry Christmas."

He smiled, "Merry Christmas, my Lord, and a goodnight." He bid and closed the door.

Perhaps his game _had_ paid off.

"Very interesting," He mumbled as he stalked down the corridor, 'A Christmas Carol' resting in his hand. "Very interesting indeed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I'm hoping that this song will find you well  
> Oh, Noel, oh, Noel."
> 
> Happy Holidays :)


End file.
